Photograph
by Amme Mahtal
Summary: It's the first night without his dad, and already Hunter is an emotional mess; he misses his dad terribly but feels guilty about Miles. Never having a good, solid brotherly bond, how is he suppose to tell Miles how he feels? What will happen when one photograph surfaces old wounds that have yet to be healed? Another request from my tumblr: /blog/petit-boy-bleu
It was the first night without their dad home. After Hunter and his siblings had come home from getting lunch, their mom and dad got into a huge fight, leading to his father's finale departure. Hunter choked back a sob, his worries swimming in his mind. He felt conflicted because he knew what his father had done to Miles (and himself, but by this point he didn't think it was a big deal), but yet he continued to cover for his father, even though he had wanted to shout at the top of his lungs what had really happened. That part of the day was hard. But then he had finally gathered the courage and strength to stand up for his older brother (who in actuality was trying to do the same for him earlier that day), he felt like he was betraying his father's trust, and he hated it. He hated having to choose sides between his brother and father. He hated it! Why couldn't they just get along? Then none of this would have ever happened, they would all still be together, like one big happy family. Was that too much to ask? If he knew that his father would move out, then he never would stood up to him… but then where would that have left Miles? Forever trapped in their father's abuse? It was a cycle, a vicious one at that. Nobody won, nobody was free. But Hunter didn't want it to be that way; he wanted it to stop, and he didn't want to feel helpless anymore. But he couldn't fix things if he didn't tell his brother how he felt. The young boy sighed. Expressing his feelings had never been his forte; he was so used to his dad ignoring him most of the time that he didn't feel the need to talk unless it was absolutely necessary. But this time, however, it was necessary. Hunter was necessary.

* * *

"Come on Hunter, let me out!" Miles cried.

It was the next morning, and after sleeping on it, Hunter had figured out how to talk to his brother. It wasn't the most mature or proper way of doing it, but it was Hunter's way, and it was the only thing he could come up with.

"If you don't let me out of this fucking closet right now I swear to God Hunter I am going to-,"

"Relax, princess," Hunter teased, chuckling to himself. "I'll let you out once you find it."

"What the hell am I looking for?! Dad took almost everything from this closet!" Miles shouted angrily.

Hunter bit his lip at the mention of their father. "Not every-everything," he said, choking back a sob.

"Huh?"

The youngest Hollingsworth took a deep breath, tears trickling at the corner of his eyes. "Look behind you on the top self,"

"Really? _Really?_! You couldn't have just showed me this instead of locking me in a fucking-"

"Goddammit Miles, just to do it!" the younger brother shouted, growing agitated.

Miles paused; he could tell from Hunter's voice that he was greatly upset, angry, and hurt. A lot. He had a pretty good idea why but thought against asking him, in fear of just making him more angry than he already was. Sighing, he scanned the top self Hunter had mentioned and gasped at what he saw.

"Did-did you find it?" Hunter asked, the silence too unbearable to stand. Miles didn't answer. He was too shocked by the framed photograph that he was holding.

"Miles?" Hunter asked, his voice shaky.

"Hunter…" Miles breathed, not knowing what to say. He looked down at the picture he was holding. It was taken a long time ago, when he was about 7 or 8. He was standing behind his father who had one arm placed on his shoulder and the other ruffling his hair. His mom was crouching next to her husband, her golden yellow hair blowing in the sea breeze. Frankie and Hunter were sitting on either side of Miles with huge grins plastered on their face. This was the last time his family had been truly happy. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he started to think back to his childhood and early teen years. Once Miles had turned 12, his relationship with his father had begun to deteriorate. It was little things like not coming to his basketball games or other activities he participated in, but as he got older, his father begun to pay less and less attention to him. It got to a point where his father would lash out at him for no reason. His words became more harsh and demeaning, seeping into his brain, and branding on his skin. By the time he was 14, Miles had tried just about every alcoholic beverage there was. It was a coping method, escaping reality-his reality-and a way to temporarily forget the pain.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, Miles noticed the knob of the closet door turning. He looked up from the photograph to see his younger brother, his eyes red and puffy, and wet tears spilling down his face.

"I-I-I-," Hunter whimpered, unable to speak.

Miles took a step outside the closest, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. The two brothers stood staring at one another, neither one muttering a single word. But it didn't matter. Because Miles knew. Hunter knew. They both knew what the other was thinking. Suddenly, Hunter ran to his older brother and collapsed into his arms. Miles was a little taken a back by abrupt embrace, but nevertheless, he wrapped his arms tightly around his brother's shoulders. Hunter continued to whimper like a wounded puppy, violently sobbing, his tears flying everywhere.

"Shh," Miles said gently, running his hands through his brother's hair. "It's going to be okay."

"No it's not," Hunter said through tears, slowly pulling away from him. "Dad left," he said, his voice breaking. "And, and-"

"I know, I know," Miles said calmly. "I know how much he means to you, and its okay, I promise."

"No it's not!" Hunter cried, stepping back a bit. "He hit you Miles! And I defended him!" he shouted, biting his lip.

Miles looked at his brother. The last thing he excepted Hunter to feel was guilt; Hunter always seemed to be angry, especially at him.

"Hunter," he said, choking on his words. "He hit you too. Worse than that. He threw a mug at you!"

Blinking back tears, Hunter responded, "But it wasn't directed at me Miles! He meant to hit you! Dad would never hurt me…"

Miles sighed. "It doesn't matter if he meant to throw it at me or even the wall. What matters is that he wanted to hurt someone, and you happened to be standing in his way. And that's not okay; it's not safe to have him around if that's how he is going to behave."

"I-I," Hunter said shakily, looking down in sorrow.

"Come here," Miles said, his arms outstretched. Hunter glanced up. He felt terrible for everything that had happened, but somehow Miles was being so understanding and caring, just like a big brother. Maybe Miles always was, and Hunter just didn't realize it. Whatever the reason, he smiled at his older brother with gratitude and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head under Miles' chin. Miles responded by enveloping a protective arm around Hunter, pulling him close.

They stayed like that for awhile, until Hunter broke the silence.

"Miles?" Hunter asked, looking up at him.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

As soon as those 3 little words rung through his eyes, a single tear caught in the corner of the older boy's eye, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. Instead, he lowered his mouth and kissed the top of Hunter's head.

"I love you too,"


End file.
